So this one time I confronted a man when I was naked...

I recently remembered that I was asked by a few of you about a story I briefly mentioned way back when 2010 was but a mere babe in arms. I published this post listing some of the things that had happened to me in the previous 10 years and I mentioned the time I confronted a man who had broken in to my Mum's house when I was naked.

Now is the time to tell it. Sometimes these stories work way better when you tell them in person rather than writing them down so I hope I can pull this one off.

Many moons ago (ok, it was about 2004/2005) I was living back home with Mum. I had finished my degree and was spending a year saving up to begin my Masters degree the following year. To be honest I never did really save up, I spent more of my time not eating and getting drunk - I've never been thinner or more hungover, it was fabulous.

One night, after finishing work at the cafe, I went out with a friend for a few drinks. I came home not drastically late, I think about 10.30pm. I wasn't steaming drunk, just in that incredibly happy state somewhere between feeling a bit fuzzy and complete incoherence. I took myself off to bed with the aim being to sleep away the inevitable hangover I would suffer from the next day.

I awoke suddenly to the sound of my Mum dashing about in my room. I peered through bleary eyes (I've still never learned to take my mascara off at night) at her. What was she doing? Didn't she know I wasn't back at work until 12pm? Why was she trying to get me to wake up?

As I slowly surfaced to join the world I became aware that she was saying something to me.

"There's a man in the house!!"

There's nothing like a healthy dose of adrenaline to cure a hangover.

Mum had disappeared out of my room after making this revelation and disappeared into hers. Still unsure of what on earth she was on about I decided to follow her.

Now. Sometimes when I've had a bit to drink, the whole notion of getting out of clothes and putting pyjamas on is an idea which is too difficult to comprehend. I'll get halfway through the task and then just give up. Unfortunately, this had been one of those nights.

I scrabbled about on the floor for my clothes and couldn't for the life of me find any. I don't even know what I'd done with the ones I'd taken off but they weren't lying in their usual heap beside the bed. At this point I thought the important thing would be to find Mum, who was still in her bedroom.

I grabbed my single duvet and wrapped it around myself, holding it with one hand at the small of my back and came out of my room. Mum was standing in the door way of her bedroom with the phone in her hand.

"CALL THE POLICE!" She screamed at me.

"What?! You've got the phone, you call them!"

At this point I turned round to see an absolutely enormous man coming up the stairs. He was seriously huge.

I'll never really know if it was the drunk that made me do the following or if this would be my natural reaction. Maybe a little bit of both.

I stood in front of him and pointed my finger in his face.

"Get out of this house immediately" I said, in what I can only describe as my most imperious, regal voice.

He stood looking at me with more than a hint of confusion on his face.

"Go on! Get out now." I was reprimanding him in much the same manner as you would a naughty puppy who had trampled dirt into the house.

Mum told me later that it was the most ridiculous sight she'd ever seen. My hair was all over the place, my backside was hanging out of the backc of the quilt and I was pointing at this ridiculously massive man like Queen Boudicca, commanding him to leave my domain.

He still looked a little confused but started to back down the stairs.

"Right! I'm going to phone the police" I said, and marched into my Mum's bedroom, taking the phone from her and calling 999.

Luckily for us we lived seconds away from a police station and the police were round incredibly quickly. Now dressed, I was at the front door, waiting for them. As I described the man they looked at each other. "We know who he is, he's just walked into the station."

It turned out he was a gurkha, out on a night out from the barracks near to Hull. He'd got ridiculously drnuk and had just decided that our house was his house and had broken in. This would explain the very confused look on his face. Imagine you've come in to what you think is your home, you've climbed the stairs to come to bed and instead you've been faced with two screaming women, one of which is holding a quilt around her, telling you to get out. I kind of feel sorry for him.

So it all ended well. Yes we were supremely lucky that it was a confused drunk personand not a burglar or raging lunatic. Yes Mum was very lucky that I was living with her at the time because God only knows what she would have done if she was on her own. She later told me that the reason she hadn't phoned the police, despite holding the phone in her hand, was that she had literally gone blind with panic and couldn't see the numbers. And yes I have been gifted with the ultimate bravery story that proves that alcohol isn't always a bad thing (unless it means you sleep naked).

PS When I think about it, the above events took place in the space of approximtely 30 seconds, from Mum waking me up to me ringing the police. It might even have been less than that. I guess it's true what they say about time slowing down. It's bizarre how I can remember every, single second of that moment as if it happened yesterday.